


Price Of A Saviour

by B00nasaurusrex



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Age Difference, Bondage, Daddy Kink, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Deepthroating, Dehumanization, Human Toy, M/M, Oral Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rope Bondage, Rough Oral Sex, Size Difference, Stockholm Syndrome, Struggle, Toy sharing, Watersports, bootlicking, equally evil/bad eskel, evil/bad geralt, humping, improper use of treasured family heirlooms, pretty much every character besides Jaskier is going to be evil/bad, specifically the human toy is shared
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:35:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28021773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/B00nasaurusrex/pseuds/B00nasaurusrex
Summary: Jaskier wanders away from camp and gets lost in the woods. Geralt is happy to help...for a price...
Relationships: Eskel/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 6
Kudos: 71





	1. Shelter From The Snow

**Author's Note:**

> Yay! My first fic on AO3 ever! Shoutout to the two amazing people who beta'd for me, coffeebookboy and what_about_the_fish. Go check them out cause they're amazing!
> 
> Also shoutout to the Witcher DeadDove server because without them and their never ending support and general being an amazing and positive influence in my life, I would never have really gotten into writing what I wanted to and would still be staring unhappily at a blank page and keyboard.
> 
> Heed! The! Tags! It's not tagged as Underage Noncon because I thought it would be funny! My tolerance for unsolicited advice, life or writing or otherwise, is in the negatives so please keep that to yourself! 
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!

Jaskier shouldn’t have wandered away from the camp. His parents had told him not to wander too far away as they set up, but he really didn’t go that far. There was a small animal a few feet away from his tent that ran into the bushes. Jaskier chased it, watched it leap out the other side of the bushes and he chased it some more, so by the time he looked up again — well, he’d only taken a dozen steps... He hadn’t chased it that far... 

All around him was snow and trees and bushes, no camp in sight. The tent was neon green — his Papa secretly hated it, but tolerated it for Dad — so he really should be able to see it from here. He hadn’t gone that far. 

He hugged his arms around himself, two sweaters and a sweatshirt somehow not enough against the cold of the wilderness. He spun in slow circles, becoming more panicked by the minute when all he could see was white snow. He started to hyperventilate, breaths coming faster and faster until he couldn’t stay in one spot anymore. He picked a direction and ran, hoping — praying — to see neon green over the next little hill. 

He ran for an eternity, the cold air burning his lungs with every breath, before he collapsed into a heap on the ground. He started to cry, the tears cutting hot rivers across his skin before freezing on his cheeks. He curled into a ball as he felt the cold and snow seep into his clothes, trying to hold onto as much warmth as possible.

A hand landed on his shoulder, Jaskier jerking weakly at the sudden touch, turning his face out of his arms. An old man was looking down at him, face pinched in concern. Jaskier tried to ask for help, if this man knew where his campsite was, but all that came out from his numb lips were half-formed sounds. The man shushed him and leaned over, bundling Jaskier up in his arms and cradling him against his chest. Jaskier snuggled into the warmth of his body, wrapping an arm around the man’s neck as he started to walk. __He was saved.__ This kind gentleman would bring him back to his camp and his parents would thank him and invite him to dinner and it’d be fun! 

The man pushed open a door, startling Jaskier out of his fantasies of dinner. They walked into a small, one room cabin, the man setting Jaskier on his feet. There was a small kitchen taking up most of the left wall, a hearth or fireplace or something throwing off plenty of wonderful heat. A double bed took up most of the back wall and half the floorspace, made up with a dark green blanket. A round table occupied the rest of the room, two chairs around it. The man, after setting Jaskier down in front of the door, went to the kitchen and stirred something over the fire, sighing in relief. 

He was an old man, older than either of Jaskier’s parents with a white beard cut close to his chin. His clothes were plain, hanging loosely off him. There was a belt around his waist, covered in different sized pouches. Jaskier lingered by the doorway a while, until it was clear the man wouldn’t tell him where to go, then he went to the closest chair and hopped onto it. The cabin was wonderfully warm and Jaskier was beginning to sweat in his layers. He pulled his sweatshirt over his head, piling it in his lap. When he looked back to the man, he was looking at Jaskier oddly. 

“Getting comfortable already?” He murmured. 

Jaskier paled and looked down at his sweatshirt and back at the man, spluttering an apology. The man watched him struggle for a second before chuckling and turning back to the stove. Jaskier curled up protectively in the chair, unsure of what to do. Why didn’t he bring Jaskier back to his camp? Was he lost forever? His parents’ warnings of strange men in vans and stranger danger scrolled through his mind. He was in a stranger’s house! The worst place to be without a familiar adult! 

The man pulled two bowls from small cabinets and ladled what turned out to be stew into them while Jaskier quietly panicked. He set a bowl and a wooden spoon in front of Jaskier and then circled around to the other side of the table, sitting in the free chair across from him. Jaskier looked at him fearfully for a couple seconds before hesitantly picking up his spoon and taking a sip of the broth. It was delicious, Jaskier shoved the spoon into his mouth and downed the mouthful in one gulp. The rest of the bowl disappeared in the same fashion, Jaskier scraping the wooden bottom in an effort to get every last drop of the broth. 

The man watched him eat with a bemused expression, idly playing with his own stew across the table. When Jaskier finished eating, sitting back contently in his chair, the man rose from the table and collected their bowls, depositing them in the sink. He returned to the table, pulling his chair over to face Jaskier’s. He sat down and regarded Jaskier with that same odd expression, spreading his knees and leaning forward with an elbow on one and a hand on the other

“What’s your name?” He asked. 

A bolt of fear shot through Jaskier’s chest as he remembered where he was — alone, in a stranger’s house, about to give a stranger his name. He took food from a guy he met in the woods. __What was he thinking?__! The man must have sensed his hesitation, smiling at him and leaning back in his chair. 

“It’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you. My name’s Geralt,” he offered, smiling warmly at the boy. 

Jaskier hesitated a moment longer. He had rescued Jaskier from the cold, bringing him inside where it was warm and gave him some really good food. He couldn’t be all that bad, right? 

“I’m Jaskier,” he said, uncertain. The man — Geralt’s smile widened and he leaned forward again. 

“Well, you know Jaskier, food is hard to come by out here,” he began, eying Jaskier with that same odd expression, “and it’s not very fair for me to give you some from my limited supply without anything in return,” he leveled a look at Jaskier that made him want to curl up into a ball again. He didn’t, being big and brave, swallowing thickly before answering. 

“My-my parents will probably pay you when you bring me back to them, if you want,” he offered. Geralt snorted softly, reaching forward to card his fingers through Jaskier’s hair. Jaskier leaned away from the hand and stared at Geralt fearfully. Geralt drew his hand back, some of the warmth in his gaze faded. 

“I think you can repay me just fine yourself,” he said, leveling that look at Jaskier again. 

Jaskier fought not to pull his knees up to his chest and hide in them, his breaths coming out heavier as fear began to fill up his chest. Geralt stared at him for an eternity before he leaned back in his chair, spreading his knees a little wider. There was a bulge there, between his legs, and Jaskier finally put two and two together. 

He leapt off the chair and darted to the door, Geralt was faster, wrapping his arms around Jaskier’s torso and pulling him flush against his chest. Jaskier could feel the bulge rubbing up against his behind, hard and thick. Geralt growled into his ear. 

“Do you think you’ll make it out there all alone? You would have died if I hadn’t gotten to you and you will die if you go out again,” he snarled. 

Jaskier struggled for a moment more before falling limp, tears springing to his eyes as he realized Geralt was right. He didn’t want to die, not any more than he wanted to repay Geralt. Geralt grumbled, pleased as Jaskier stopped struggling, pulling him back to the table and setting him on the floor. Jaskier cried openly as Geralt retook his seat in front of him, spreading his knees and palming himself through his pants. He unzipped his pants and pulled out his…his thingy. Jaskier sobbed at the sight, the thing all red and dripping and scary. Geralt smirked at him, lazily fisting it. 

“Have you ever seen a real cock Jaskier?” He murmured.

Jaskier shrank in on himself, hugging his arms around himself and shaking his head, staring down at the floor. Geralt wound a hand in his hair and wrenched his head up, pulling him forward so he was face to face with the terrible thing. Jaskier whimpered and tried to pull back, but the hand in his hair held fast, keeping him in place. Geralt shifted his hips forward, bumping the head of the thing against Jaskier’s lips. Jaskier tried and failed to turn his head away and settled for squeezing his eyes shut and focusing on not licking his lips. Geralt chuckled above him and shifted his hips again, running the length of it along the seam of Jaskier’s lips. Jaskier whimpered and pressed his mouth shut as tight as he could. 

“Come on sweetheart, open up,” Geralt cooed, pushing his thing against Jaskier’s lips again. 

Jaskier shook his head and tried to pull back again. Geralt pulled him forward, the shaft of it brushing along his cheek and leaving a trail of something he didn’t want to think about. Jaskier turned his head away from it, and when Jaskier didn’t yield after some more coaxing, Geralt growled and gripped Jaskier’s chin, his thumb in the middle of his lips, and pressed his thumb in. He wriggled it between Jaskier’s teeth, and Jaskier had a momentary thought of biting it off. 

“If you bite me, I’ll throw you out there to be torn apart by wolves.” Geralt growled, forcing his thumb further into Jaskier’s mouth. Jaskier finally yielded, parting his teeth to allow Geralt to retract his thumb and push two fingers into his mouth. Geralt pushed down on his tongue and Jaskier whimpered, wanting to curl up and die as Geralt thrust his fingers in and out of Jaskier’s mouth. Eventually, Geralt pulled his fingers away, wiping them on Jaskier’s shoulder. Jaskier wanted to believe that would be it, but he knew it wasn’t.

Geralt’s cock pushed against his lips and Jaskier shut his mouth again on instinct. Geralt tutted above him and another hand wound through his hair. Jaskier tried to resist, to push back as Geralt shoved his head forward, spearing his mouth on his cock and shoving it all the way down his throat until his nose was nestled in the hair at the base, but Geralt was just so much bigger and stronger than him. Jaskier gagged, heaving and working his throat to expel the intrusion, but that only made Geralt groan and push his hips deeper into Jaskier’s throat. Jaskier tried to take in a breath but the thing in his throat stopped the air like he was underwater. 

He grunted and started to struggle, hitting Geralt’s thighs and trying to push against the iron grip on the back of his head. Geralt just huffed a breathless chuckle, grinding his hips into Jaskier’s face. 

“Only good boys get to go slow,” Geralt breathed out, pulling Jaskier’s head back until the head of his cock rested on Jaskier’s tongue, and the boy opened his mouth to breathe around it, taking a few heaving breaths before Geralt shoved him back down and held him there. He repeated the motion, keeping Jaskier speared on his cock until his lungs were screaming for air and Jaskier thought about biting him just to be able to breathe, pulling him away at the last second and letting him get a few panting breaths before shoving him down again. 

Geralt pushed him down a final time, holding him there longer than he ever had before, Jaskier making desperate, pleading sounds around the cock in his throat as his vision started to sparkle at the edges, his head going all light and fuzzy. Just when he was sure he was going to pass out Geralt yanked his head back, spurting a thick and disgusting liquid down his throat just as Jaskier took in a deep and desperate breath, inhaling some of the fluid. Jaskier choked, Geralt let go of his hair as he dropped on his hands and coughed at the floor, his body convulsing and trying to expel whatever was in his lungs. 

When he was done, when he could draw in a shaky, hitching breath without dying, Jaskier opened his eyes. There were drops of a pearly white liquid on the ground underneath his mouth, and the taste of it in his mouth was awful. Salty and musky and thick and slimy and Jaskier felt like actually throwing up. Geralt petted through his hair, watching him tremble as he tried to keep down his stew. 

Jaskier had been crying the entire time but a new wave of hysterical sobs ripped through him along with the waves of nausea. Geralt shushed him, petted his hair like Papa did when he was sad and that just brought on more wracking sobs. Would he ever see his Dad and Papa again? He had to, Geralt couldn’t keep him forever. His parents would be looking for him now and they’d find him and Geralt would go to jail and everything would be okay. 

Geralt’s hands wound around his arms and hauled him to his feet, Jaskier wrapping his arms around himself and crying at the ground. Geralt knelt in front of him, running soothing hands down his arms and shushing him, only making Jaskier cry harder. 

“I-I wan-wanna go home!” Jaskier said between hiccuping sobs. Geralt just shushed him again. 

“That’s okay, you’ll get used to this before you know it.”

Jaskier wailed, bringing his arms up to cover his head and folding into himself, backing away and out of Geralt’s gentle grasp. That was going to happen again! No, no he’d never get used to that he could never get __used__ to that how could he? How could he ever be okay with that? But Geralt wouldn’t care, he’d just keep doing it until his parents found him and brought him home. Geralt reached out for him again and Jaskier jerked away, shaking his head along with the rest of his shaking body. Geralt insisted, wrapping his hands around his arms and pulling him up and into Geralt’s arms. Jaskier struggled a moment before Geralt threw him down, Jaskier bouncing on the bed and wrenching his eyes open in surprise. 

Geralt was at the foot of the bed, leaning on his hands and looking at Jaskier darkly. Jaskier whimpered at the thought of __more__ and moved to jump off the bed. Geralt’s hand darted out and grabbed Jaskier’s ankle, squeezing hard enough to bruise. He stared coldly, angrily down at Jaskier in a warning, Jaskier shrunk underneath the gaze, re-centering himself on the bed. His parents would find him. They’d burst through the door any minute and if they didn’t then they’d get here in time for this only to happen once. He only had to endure this once. 

Geralt waited for Jaskier to settle before releasing his ankle, pushing off the bed to stand at the foot of it. He seemed to debate over something a second before making a decision. He leaned back over the bed and gripped Jaskier’s ankle again, yanking him down to the foot of the bed. Jaskier yelped and struggled a second before getting a hold of himself again, covering his face with his arms. Geralt tutted above him and grabbed his wrists, much gentler than he had his ankle, and pulled his arms away. Jaskier stared fearfully up at him, sniffling. Geralt released one wrist and lovingly brushed a lock of Jaskier’s hair out of his face. 

“Are you going to be a good boy for me, Jaskier?” He murmured. 

Jaskier shrank in on himself even more, wincing at the question. He swallowed thickly and nodded, squeezing his eyes shut. Geralt leaned down and planted a chaste kiss on his forehead, releasing his other wrist. Jaskier thought that maybe Geralt would leave him alone when he pulled away, but his heart sank as Geralt began tugging at his sweaters, pulling them up and around his arms. Jaskier cringed and tried to pull his arms to his chest to keep himself clothed. Geralt’s hand was at his throat in an instant, pinning him to the bed and freezing him in place. Geralt squeezed, more of a threat than anything meant to hurt. 

“I thought you said you’d be a good boy,” he growled. 

Jaskier whimpered and started trembling, fear keeping him frozen in place even after Geralt withdrew his hand. The fear was coiling around him, squeezing him tighter and tighter and keying him up more and more. When Geralt pulled at his sweater again he exploded, kicking at Geralt and rolling off the bed and onto the floor. He made it three steps before Geralt’s hand was in his hair again, yanking him back so hard his feet flew out from under him. He would have landed on his butt if Geralt hadn’t kept yanking, dragging him by the hair back to the bed, throwing him down and bracketing him in with his arms. Jaskier chanced a look, opening his eyes just enough to see Geralt staring angrily down at him before squeezing his eyes shut again. Geralt huffed an irritated sigh before speaking. 

“See, that was a lie. And good boys don’t lie to their Daddy,” he growled, winding his hands in Jaskier’s hair. Jaskier just shrank further into himself, covering his face with his arms and once more beginning to sob. Geralt made an irritated noise and sat up on his heels. He seemed to stare at Jaskier for a second, Jaskier’s sobs becoming louder and louder as he waited for Geralt to hit him or choke him or do __something__. 

Fingers lit upon his waistband and trailed down, running over the outline of his tiny cock in his pants. Jaskier shouted at the touch, rising up on his elbows and trying to crawl away. Geralt growled again, grabbing his arm and pulling him back into place. 

“Don’t make me tie you up,” he growled. Jaskier nodded and hid behind his arms, Geralt made that irritated sound again. Geralt sat back and began to play with Jaskier’s tiny prick, running a finger down the length of it and pinching it between two fingers through the fabric of his pants. Jaskier managed to stay still, even as weird tingles spread through his hips and his breath started to come out faster. There was a feeling building in Jaskier’s hips, a coiling pressure he’d never felt before. It built, and built and built and built until Jaskier’s breath hitched and the dam was beginning to break and —

Geralt snatched his hand away, Jaskier surprised himself by whining at the loss and moving his hips to chase Geralt’s hand. Geralt chuckled above him. 

“No, no. Only good boys get to come and you’ve been very bad,” he cooed, hooking a finger into Jaskier’s waistband and pulling down. 

The reality of the situation hit Jaskier like a bird flying into a window and he panicked, turning away from Geralt’s hands and crawling up the bed, nearly making it to the floor before Geralt’s hands were at his hips, pulling him back into place. 

“That’s it!” He growled, pushing himself up and off the bed. Jaskier curled into a ball as he watched Geralt kneel at the foot of the bed, pulling a trunk out from underneath it and taking out lengths of rope. Jaskier watched, paralyzed by fear, as Geralt moved to the side of the bed and roughly gripped Jaskier’s wrist, pulling him up to the headboard. Jaskier struggled, trying to pull away as Geralt looped the rope around his wrist a couple times and tied it off,reaching over Jaskier to grab the other hand and repeating the action. He wound the rope between Jaskier’s wrists so each one was in a separate cuff and then tied the whole thing to a hook embedded in the wall above the headboard. 

Jaskier was crying again, tears of helplessness and hopelessness. He only had to do this once, and his parents would save him and this would be over, but he didn’t know if he could survive once! Geralt began to pull down his pants and Jaskier kicked out in desperation again, wanting to go anywhere but there. He’d even choke on it again, just to avoid what he couldn’t quite name but knew was coming. Geralt growled again, grabbing Jaskier by the ankles and pulling down, his wrists staying put and his shoulders stretching painfully. Jaskier cried out and went still, squeezing his eyes shut and turning his face into his arm, sniffling. 

“Jesus, do I have to tie your legs too?” Geralt growled in irritation. Jaskier just sniffled. Geralt made the irritated sound again and let go of his ankles, unlatching the trunk and pulling out more rope. He took one ankle and began to loop the rope around it to form a cuff when he stopped, hesitating a few seconds before uncoiling the rope from the limb. Jaskier cringed into his arm as the bed dipped from Geralt’s weight. Geralt gently gripped his sides, turning him slowly until he was face down on his bed. The rope on his hands was twisted now, but that wouldn’t get in the way. Confusion cut through Jaskier’s haze of helplessness. What new horror would this bring? 

Satisfied with his placement, Geralt went about wrapping a cuff around Jaskier’s ankle and tying the other end to the bed frame, leaving a curious amount of slack in the line. He repeated the process with the other ankle, leaving the same amount of slack. He climbed back up on the bed, settling between Jaskier’s spread legs, and started pulling his pants down again. Jaskier kicked out, only able to make it so far before the rope stopped him. He writhed in the bonds as Geralt chuckled at him and pulled his pants and underwear all the way down, exposing his ass and little cock to the air. Jaskier sobbed at being bared before Geralt, burying his face into the blankets beneath him. 

Jaskier’s pants had stopped just before his knees, his legs too spread to pull them down any further. The bed lightened as Geralt got up, rummaging around the kitchen for a second before settling back behind Jaskier. Jaskier squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to know what would happen next. There was pressure on his legs and a ripping sound as Geralt sawed through the fabric of his pants, cutting just enough before simply ripping them off his legs. Jaskier sobbed through it, more hopelessness flooding him and making him want to disappear. 

Geralt set the knife aside and began pulling Jaskier’s sweaters over his arms and head, bunching up beneath the cuffs. Geralt leaned over him, knife in hand, ready to cut them free too and Jaskier freaked, screaming no and writhing in the bonds. Geralt hesitated a second, pulling the knife away from the sweaters but remaining above Jaskier. 

“My—” Jaskier’s breath hitched and he had to force down a sob before he could speak, “my Papa made that for me,” he whimpered. Geralt wasn’t anywhere he could see the pleading look in Jaskier’s eyes, but he could damn well hear the sound of it in his voice. Geralt considered this for a second before relenting, putting the knife down on the bed. 

“Fine, they can stay,” he mumbled, pushing the sweaters over the cuffs and bundling them so Jaskier could grab at the fabric. Jaskier nearly sobbed in relief: that sweater was his favorite thing in the world, Papa spent months making it special just for him. Geralt moved off the bed again, putting the knife away before returning, kneeling between the boy’s spread legs. Jaskier whimpered as the bed dipped behind him and Geralt’s hands appeared on his ass, kneading the soft flesh and pulling them apart to expose his hole. Jaskier tried to kick out, to get Geralt’s hands off of him, but he only made it so far before the ropes pulled taught and kept him in place. Geralt smirked at him and spread his cheeks again, watching the tiny hole twitch under his gaze. 

Jaskier sobbed into the blankets as Geralt ran a finger down his crack,running over his hole again and again, pushing a little bit harder each time. He pushed in, just the tip of his finger, but Jaskier cried out around it, shaking and trembling and burying his face into the mattress. __It was so weird and- and wrong__. Geralt chuckled softly at his reaction, bringing his finger out and pushing it back in again and again, a little further each time. Jaskier sobbed and shook around the digit. It was only a finger but it felt huge, splitting him in half. 

Geralt worked his finger in slowly until he was seated to the second knuckle, the boy’s hole spasming and clenching around him. It was dry, the friction and bite of skin on skin making the whole thing worse. Jaskier whimpered and then cried as Geralt pushed in further, something inside him tearing as Geralt pulled out, the slide suddenly much easier. Geralt tutted above him. 

“Oh, ripped already,” he tsked, running a soothing hand across the small of Jaskier’s back, “I suppose you could use some slick but,” he leaned over Jaskier’s body, murmuring into his ear, “you’ve been a very bad boy, Jaskier.” He kissed the side of Jaskier’s head and pushed himself back up to kneel, shoving his finger into Jaskier’s hole to the hilt. Jaskier screamed, trying to pull away and fighting against the ropes. Geralt chuckled and drew his finger nearly all the way out before shoving it all the way back in. 

Jaskier’s brain was blacking out from the pain, all he could think, feel, comprehend was the thing splitting him in two and ripping him apart. Someone was screaming and he belatedly realized it was him, tipping his face into the mattress and screaming into the blankets. Geralt patted his side with his free hand, waiting for his voice to grow hoarse and cut out before speaking, still lazily thrusting his finger into his hole. 

“My, you’re a sensitive one,” he chuckled, “and this is just one finger. Imagine what two or three or a whole cock will feel like,” he jabbed his finger into him for emphasis, Jaskier sobbing. _ _There was something worse than this? He’d do more than just this?__ Geralt pushed his finger as deep as it would go, stroking around his walls until he passed a spot that made Jaskier’s breath hitch and hips jump. The tingles sparkled through his hips and his own little prick started pressing against the mattress. It didn’t feel good; he supposed it should have from the way Geralt chuckled and patted his side again, but still all he could really feel was the finger splitting him open. 

Geralt removed his finger, wiping the blood off on one of Jaskier’s cheeks, and took him by the hips, maneuvering him easily without Jaskier’s input. He pulled Jaskier’s hips up, getting his knees under him. The ropes on his feet were just long enough that the only way Jaskier could stay up on his own was if his arms were fully extended, his chest pressed into the mattress. Jaskier whined and cried at the position, his private parts entirely exposed to Geralt’s roaming hands. 

Geralt toyed with his little prick, stroking it between two of his fingers, poking it to watch it bounce back into place, rolling his little sac in his hand and watching Jaskier squirm and whine. Jaskier tried to pull away, but in this position there was nowhere to go; he just had to sit there and take whatever Geralt wanted to do to him. The thought made the tingles spread through his hips again, his thingy twitching in the air. Of course Geralt noticed, running a hand over Jaskier’s flank and chuckled at him. 

“You like that, little toy? You like it when I play with your little prick?” He teased, flicking Jaskier’s cock and making him jerk. Geralt laughed and petted his side again. He stroked and teased at Jaskier’s cock another minute until Jaskier was panting and whining into the blankets. His hole still hurt, throbbing and bleeding, but without the constant searing pain the attention at his prick might’ve maybe felt a little good. 

Geralt pulled away suddenly, tutting and leaving the bed, returning to the trunk by the sounds of it. “You know only good boys get to come,” Geralt murmured as he settled back behind Jaskier, “and I don’t think you can control yourself.” 

Jaskier gasped as rough rope wound around the base of his prick, tightening down and wrapping around each of his balls, tying off at the base of them. Jaskier whined at the pressure on his prick, not painful but definitely weird and uncomfortable.

Geralt pulled at his prick again, stroking it with two fingers. The friction pinched and Jaskier whimpered. Geralt pulled his fingers away a second and when he returned his fingers were slick. He coated Jaskier’s little cock with the slick stuff and resumed stroking him off, Jaskier’s breath hitching along with little breathy moans as Geralt’s fingers worked him over. The coiling tension in his hips returned, Jaskier’s hips giving little aborted thrusts as it built and built and built. And kept building and kept building, the end just in sight but the pressure around his prick and balls too much, keeping the tension from releasing. 

Jaskier keened when Geralt lay down between his legs, pulling Jaskier’s hips down so he could take his little prick into his mouth, laving over it with his tongue and sucking gently. Jaskier’s hips moved of their own accord, trying to hump Geralt’s face in his iron grip. Geralt had his hands around Jaskier’s hips, nearly able to connect his fingers over his ass, and was pulling Jaskier’s cheeks apart again. Jaskier barely noticed, too caught up in the delicious feeling of Geralt’s tongue on his prick.

He did notice when Geralt forced a finger back into Jaskier’s hole, using Jaskier’s own movements to get it in deep. Jaskier froze, caught between the pleasure and pain on either side of him as Geralt bobbed his head on Jaskier’s cock and thrust his finger into Jaskier’s hole. Geralt pushed in a second finger next to the first, the stretch making Jaskier wail in pain, more blood flooding his channel. Geralt grumbled around Jaskier’s tiny prick, the vibrations making Jaskier cry out again, roughly working him up to three fingers, pistoning in and out of his little hole. 

Jaskier’s brain was gone, short circuiting from the intense pleasure-pain overwhelming him. He pressed his face into the blankets, tears running down his cheeks as Geralt sucked him off and fingered him into oblivion. The pressure kept building, the finish line always a foot in front of him, and Jaskier realized he was whining continuously into the blankets. After an eternity, Geralt pulled off Jaskier’s prick with a pop and shuffled out from under his legs to kneel behind him again, not once removing his fingers from Jaskier’s hole.

“Do you want to come, Jaskier?” Geralt murmured, lazily thrusting his three fingers in and out of Jaskier. Jaskier didn’t know exactly what that meant, but he could guess. He nodded, hiding his face in his arms. Geralt tsked. 

“No no, if you want to come you have to ask like a good boy.” 

Jaskier whined and pressed his face into the mattress. He would not beg this man for anything, especially not something he’d done to him. Geralt just tsked again, removing his fingers from Jaskier’s hole and gripping him by the hips. 

“You’re not coming until you beg for it, baby boy,” he murmured, the bulbous head of his cock pressing at Jaskier’s hole. He didn’t wait for Jaskier to react, thrusting in fully as soon as the head popped in, Jaskier screamed around the intrusion. Geralt had been right — this was so much worse than just a finger. Without the tongue on his prick all he had was the pain of being torn open, being filled so much he couldn’t breathe, of having his breath punched out of him with every savage thrust. 

Geralt had set up a punishing rhythm, pulling nearly all the way out before slamming back in, pulling Jaskier’s hips up to meet his. Jaskier kept screaming, the pain only increasing as Geralt went. Geralt’s cock dragged across that spot again and Jaskier jerked in Geralt’s grasp. Geralt laughed and did it again, and again, aiming for that spot with each thrust. Moans started to intermix with Jaskier’s screams, sparks shooting though the tight coil in his gut whenever Geralt hit that spot, searing pain every other second of the ordeal. It didn’t feel good, it __hurt__ and Jaskier just wanted to scream and thrash and fight until he died. He pulled on the ropes, trying and failing to get them free. Geralt either didn’t notice or didn’t care, fucking him with reckless abandon. 

Eventually Jaskier screamed himself raw, devolving into hitching sobs and breathy moans. Geralt leaned on top of Jaskier, his head right over Jaskier’s. He could hear every one of Geralt’s moans, deep in his chest and in time with his thrusts and for some reason that made Jaskier blush more than anything. He squirmed and tried to get away from him, but the ropes held fast. Geralt pressed a kiss to Jaskier’s temple and wrapped his arms around Jaskier’s torso, holding him in place while he fucked into him.

“If you were a good boy,” he panted, “this would feel good. It’d feel so good you’d never get enough of it. Instead,” he thrust in particularly savagely, pulling a cry from the boy beneath him, “you were bad, you fought me and this is what happens to boys who are bad,” he fucked into him harder, ripping tears in his walls, the blood easing the slide slightly. Jaskier sobbed — it hurt so much. He’d never felt anything so horrible, so terrible as this and he just wanted it to be over! He’d be good, he’d be good if this would just end!

His thrusts were getting harder and less coordinated, only hitting the spot once every two or three thrusts rather than every time. Geralt moaned into Jaskier’s ear, panting and grunting and holding him tight. 

He pulled out further than he ever had and slammed back in with more force, doing that once, twice, three more times before he moaned loudly into Jaskier’s ear and started to spew that liquid inside him again. Jaskier whimpered at the feeling of Geralt filling him up, grinding his hips into Jaskier to get as deep as possible, Jaskier sobbing in relief as the onslaught of pain stopped. He filled him for an eternity, licking and kissing Jaskier’s face as he did, Jaskier trying and failing to shrink away. When he was finally done filling him up, Geralt leaning a good part of his weight on Jaskier’s back, he chuckled and kissed his ear again. 

“That…was coming,” he breathed into Jaskier’s ear. Jaskier whimpered and tried to pull away. He didn’t want to do that, he’d never beg Geralt to do that. Geralt seemed to hear his thoughts, snaking a hand down Jaskier’s stomach and gripping his little prick again, still hard with the rope around it. He stroked it, spreading the liquid beading at the tip around to ease the slide. 

“If you were a good boy, if you asked nicely, I’d let you do it,” he kissed Jaskier’s temple again. Jaskier hesitated a second — if he was good that wouldn’t happen again, but his parents were coming so it wouldn’t happen again regardless — and shook his head, refusing to do either. Geralt tsked and pushed himself up, moving behind Jaskier again. There was a rivulet of blood dripping down his thigh and Geralt wiped it away, not wanting to stain his blankets. Geralt quickly untied Jaskier’s legs, throwing the ropes off the end of the bed to deal with later, and flipped Jaskier onto his back. Jaskier whimpered as he was jostled, his hole burning with the residual stretch and twitching as it tried to close. 

Geralt spread Jaskier’s legs and Jaskier let him, most of the fight in him gone now. Laying down, Geralt settled between Jaskier’s legs and took his little prick into his mouth again, sucking and licking at it while playing with his balls through the ropes. Jaskier cried out, arching against the bed, the pain of his hole mixing with the pleasure of Geralt’s mouth. Geralt snorted softly and held him down with a hand on his hip, bobbing his head on the little thing. 

The pressure was back, Jaskier openly sobbing and moaning at the intense pain-pressure-pleasure. He kicked against the sheets, trying to get away from Geralt’s mouth and failing miserably. The pressure built and built, the release right there and still not coming and Jaskier wailed in frustration. Geralt pulled off with a pop, laying his cheek against Jaskier’s thigh and looking up at him innocently. 

“Do you want to come?” He asked, lightly teasing at the head of the cock. Jaskier whined, fisting the fabric of the sweaters above him and writhing underneath Geralt’s hold. Geralt waited a few moments and, when Jaskier just screwed his eyes shut and didn’t respond, went back to suckling on his little prick. Jaskier whined, panting and writhing, the pressure just so much, too much, scrambling his little brain, his entire world, all he could think of or comprehend was the mouth and tongue around his cock and the pressure stopping his release. 

“P-please,” Jaskier breathed out, just barely audible over the sounds of Geralt sucking him off. He heard though, pulling off with a sinful sound and staring up at Jaskier innocently. 

“What was that?” He asked, ghosting his fingers over Jaskier’s cock. Jaskier whined and hid his face in his arm, a blush rising to his cheeks. 

“Please let me come,” he breathed out, quieter than the first. 

“I couldn’t hear that, love, you’ll have to speak up,” Geralt mouthed over the head of his prick, Jaskier nearly crying out at it. 

“Please,” he breathed, a little louder. Geralt shook his head, kissing the base of his prick. “Please,” a little louder. Geralt pulled away from his cock, gripping it by the base over the ropes. 

“If you want to come, just say ‘Please sir, may I come’ like a good boy,” he said, as if it were the easiest thing in the world. Jaskier whimpered and hid his face more, chest heaving and little moans coming out with each breath. He didn’t want to beg, he didn’t want to ask this man for anything, but he was so close and so desperate for something he didn’t even understand. He wanted, he just wanted so desperately, his walls breaking down as Geralt mouthed along the length of him again. 

“Please sir, let me come,” he said in a quiet voice. Geralt pulled away again. 

“You’re almost there, baby, just a little louder,” he said, licking a line from base to tip. Jaskier whined — he didn’t want to! — but swallowed and licked his lips anyway. 

“Please sir let me come, I wanna come I’ll be good I’ll be a good boy just please let me come!” He nearly yelled, pulling his face out of his arm to look desperately down at Geralt. Geralt sucked in a breath at him, planting a chaste kiss on the weeping head of his cock before reaching down to his sac and untying the rope, carefully unwinding it. Jaskier sobbed as the pressure around his prick was released, humping the air to get some kind of friction on him, anything at all just to push him over the edge. 

Geralt watched him a moment, smiling at his desperation, before leaning down and breathing on his cock. That was all it took, the tension snapping inside him and waves of pleasure crashing down on him. He was screaming and arching off the bed and it was so __much__ , he just kept coming and coming, an eternity passing before it all became too much and he slipped into sweet oblivion. 


	2. Eskel's Visit Pt 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eskel comes over to watch Jaskier for the day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! This section turned into an 11k monster, so I'm splitting it into three parts! The upside of that is that at least the next two chapters will be posted on a schedule, most likely Fridays starting next week. 
> 
> I realized later that my original notes were a little stern, so let me clarify. Do not hesitate to let me know I forgot or mistagged something. Don't stop commenting until I change it. The only people who should be here are the ones that are informed about what's going on who then consented to read it. Please help me make sure that that's always true!
> 
> As always, enjoy!

Jaskier was alone when he came to, the bed empty and cold, the blanket pulled up over his head. His arms were untied, the rope probably stowed away in that trunk like it had never been pulled out in the first place. Jaskier’s wrists said otherwise. The light from the cabin filtered through the blanket enough to see and Jaskier’s wrists were red and angry where the ropes had dug into him. He stared at them, a lump of tears forming in his throat. This was real. It was happening. He was here and last night had happened and it was all real. 

There must be something wrong with him, there had to be. He’d begged. He’d begged Geralt to be allowed to come and he’d been so happy and relieved when he’d let him. Jaskier had liked it. He liked coming, he’d liked being split open and tied up and helpless at Geralt’s hand. Shame and self-loathing filled in all the spaces that weren’t already a pit of sadness and Jaskier buried his face in the pillow, trying to muffle the sounds of his sniffles. He was the worst, he was defective, his parents wouldn’t want him anymore because there was obviously something terribly wrong with him. 

Jaskier shook his head slightly, swallowed the lump in his throat, and squeezed his eyes shut to chase away the tears. Soft voices floated over from the table but he didn’t want them to know he was awake, especially since there were two of them now. If the other person was sitting calmly at a table and talking to Geralt, they weren’t here to rescue him. He didn’t know how they’d feel about him crying but he didn’t want to risk them being angry. Last night had hurt, no matter how much his broken self liked it, and he didn’t want to be punished again. 

Jaskier held as still as he could and tried to control his breathing, a hard task with the lump still in his throat, while he strained his ears to hear the conversation. Unfortunately, as soon as he did the quiet murmur of conversation died out, a chair creaked as someone turned around in it to look at him. 

“We know you’re awake, Jaskier,” Geralt called from the table. Jaskier cringed under the blanket, fear flashing through his chest. Would they know he was listening? He wanted to sink into the mattress and disappear, but the mattress was far too firm for that. Jaskier sheepishly pulled the blanket off his head, glancing over to the table before dropping his gaze to the blanket. The chairs had been placed back in their proper positions, facing each other on either side of the table, and Geralt was seated in the one closest to the bed, turned to face Jaskier. There was another man on the other side of the table, and in the quick glance Jaskier could see he was dark haired, wearing a red shirt, and that something was wrong with his face. 

“Come here,” Geralt ordered. Jaskier fought not to flinch at the edge in his voice and willed himself to pull the blanket off himself. He was still naked from last night and when he looked up again the stranger was staring at him like a steak dinner and he — _he couldn’t_. He couldn’t get up and be naked in front of the stranger, any stranger but especially not the one staring at him like that. He fisted the blankets in his lap, not looking up and hoping that Geralt wouldn’t hurt him too bad. 

Geralt huffed an irritated sigh, going quiet for a couple seconds. “Is there something wrong?” He asked, the irritation clear in his voice. Jaskier cringed at it, knowing he was digging himself deeper into the grave with every passing second but unable to make himself get up. 

“I need clothes,” he mumbled, keeping his head down and gripping the blanket as tight as he could. Geralt snorted and stood up, crossed the few steps over to the side of the bed, and grabbed Jaskier under the arms, hauling him up and out of the bed. Jaskier yelped and kept a hold of the blankets on reflex, trying to keep himself covered. Geralt growled and took a hand off Jaskier to rip the blanket out of his grasp, the hand still on his arm digging into him hard enough to bruise. Jaskier squeezed his eyes shut and whimpered, wrapping his arms around himself as best he could and falling still in the air. Geralt held him aloft a second, looking him over, before setting him gently down on the floor and readjusting his grip on Jaskier’s arm. He then pulled Jaskier forward and led him towards the table, stopping him next to it and taking a seat again. 

Jaskier hugged himself, his arm aching and his eyes still squeezed shut. This wasn’t happening, he wasn’t standing here naked and letting them look at him. He ducked his head and held himself tighter, trembling slightly as he felt the two men’s gazes rake over him. A chair shifted and fingers touched his penis and Jaskier jumped, pulling away from the touch and whimpering. The stranger made an irritated sound and reached out again, cupping his penis and balls in his hand and pulling them forward to see. Humiliation burned through him as the stranger fondled him, running his hands across the smooth skin on Jaskier’s sac and stroking across the small length of him. The stranger removed his hand and Jaskier let out a sigh of relief, lowering his shoulders where they’d been raised up to his ears. 

“He’s got a cute little cocklet,” the stranger remarked. Geralt chuckled, reaching out and toying with Jaskier’s thingy. It twitched, the sparks brewing in Jaskier’s hips, and Geralt chuckled again. 

“Oh, do you like that, pet? You like it when I play with your little cocklet?” Geralt teased. 

Jaskier squeezed his eyes shut and held himself tighter, not wanting to answer. His…cocklet answered for him though, filling out under Geralt’s attention, the sparks shooting through his hips and his breaths coming out heavier and heavier. His head was swimming, his toes curling against the cold floor as Geralt worked him over. His knees started to tremble with the effort of staying upright. He didn’t want this, he reminded himself. He didn’t want this to happen, he wanted to go home, he definitely didn’t want to reach the peak again, Geralt’s rough fingers rubbing underneath the head and stroking him so good and oh god — 

Geralt pulled away just as Jaskier reached the peak, his cocklet twitching pathetically with his ruined orgasm. Jaskier whined, curling in on himself and pushing his hips forward to chase Geralt’s hand. Geralt chuckled at him and Jaskier pried his eyes open, pleading with Geralt to touch him again. Geralt smirked at him and held his gaze as he casually sipped his coffee. 

“Only good boys get to come, you know that,” Geralt said, taking another sip. Jaskier whined, he could be good, and squeezed his eyes shut again, trying to ignore the throbbing in his cocklet. The stranger leaned forward, the chair creaking as he shifted, and flicked Jaskier’s prick. Jaskier squeaked and pulled away from the pain, holding himself tighter again and opening his eyes. 

The stranger was about Geralt’s age, dark hair and a red shirt, with three vertical scars cutting down the side of his face. His upper lip was contorted into a permanent sneer and Jaskier shrank back a little at the sight of him. Geralt tsked.

“Now, Jask, that isn’t how good boys greet guests, is it?” Geralt chided. Jaskier cringed and looked fearfully towards Geralt, remembering the possibility of punishments again. Geralt looked at him a second before shaking his head and tsking again. 

“How do you want him to make it up to you, Eskel?” Geralt asked the stranger. Jaskier turned towards him, silently pleading to just forgive him. Eskel brought a hand up to his chin, making a show of thinking about Jaskier’s punishment. 

“Hmm, how well behaved has he been?” Eskel asked. Geralt shrugged, taking another sip of coffee. 

“He knows what happens when he misbehaves.”

Eskel split into a wicked smile, turning to Jaskier with a glint in his eye that turned Jaskier’s blood to ice. Geralt snorted softly and rose from the table. 

“I have to get going, you two have fun,” he said, patting Jaskier on the head as he went to the door. Jaskier sucked in a breath, swiveling his head to follow Geralt as he crossed the room and pulled his coat from the rack by the door. He was going to leave him with Eskel? He barely knew Geralt’s rules and now he had to learn Eskel’s? He turned back to Eskel as Geralt shut the door behind him. Eskel smiled at him, face contorted into a horror, and Jaskier shut his eyes against it. Eskel tsked, oddly reminiscent of Geralt. 

“No no no, you’re going to look at me while I decide what to do with you,” Eskel said, a sharp edge to his voice. Jaskier opened his eyes again, staring up at Eskel with the biggest pleading eyes he could muster. Eskel tipped his head to the side, a hand reaching down and palming his dick while he mulled Jaskier over. He stared Jaskier down for a moment, Jaskier’s heart hammering harder in his chest by the minute. Eskel finally leaned forward, his elbows on his knees and face close to Jaskier’s. 

“Do you want to be a good boy?” He asked slowly. Jaskier leaned back on his heels away from Eskel and thought about it. He couldn’t really say no, not without a lot of pain. He didn’t want to say yes, not even to reach the peak anymore, but he couldn’t say no. Reluctantly, he looked Eskel in the eye and nodded, hating himself the instant he did it. Eskel broke into that horrific smile and sat back in his chair, palming himself again. 

“Well then,” he started, putting his foot out in Jaskier’s direction, “good boys clean my boots.” 

Jaskier physically recoiled from the thought, the idea of licking his shoes so far away from the punishments he’d imagined that it caught him off guard. Eskel’s boots were caked in snow and mud and in no way anything Jaskier would put his mouth near. Jaskier looked back up to Eskel, eyes pleading and confused. Eskel just lounged in the chair, idly palming his dick, waiting for Jaskier to get to work. Jaskier hesitated. He couldn’t do that, he wouldn’t. After several seconds Eskel huffed an impatient sigh. 

“Either be a good boy and do it yourself or be bad and make me shove the boot down your throat,” he said casually. Jaskier sucked in a breath, fear flashing through him at the thought. He looked back down at Eskel’s boot. It was still horrible but maybe the lesser of the two evils. Jaskier hesitantly dropped to his hands and knees, Eskel making a pleased sound as he brought his face to Eskel’s foot. It was worse up close, little bits of grass and dark clumps of things Jaskier didn’t want to think about stuck in the mud. Jaskier looked up one last time at Eskel, hoping to maybe see some mercy in his eyes but only seeing lust and that wicked glint as he stroked himself through his trousers. 

Jaskier sucked in a breath, closing his eyes against the world, and flicked out his tongue. The mud was grainy and tasted like dirt, a bit of grass coming off on his tongue. Jaskier cringed at the taste and the feel and the general humiliation of the situation. He was licking Eskel’s boot like a dog, and Eskel was enjoying it. Jaskier hesitated, working the bit of grass in his mouth and debating whether to swallow it or spit it out, and Eskel moved his foot, pushing it into Jaskier’s face to tell him to get on with it. 

The lump in Jaskier’s throat was back, tears threatening to fall at any moment as Jaskier flicked his tongue out again and licked up a clump of mud and brought it into his mouth. He cringed and made to spit it out. 

“No no, swallow it all,” Eskel ordered. Jaskier whimpered and let out a sob before gathering up a mouthful of spit around the mud and forcing it down, his body recoiling against it and sending him dry heaving above Eskel’s boots. Eskel just chuckled and kept working himself over through his pants. Jaskier didn’t want to see, didn’t want to think about how he was touching himself to Jaskier licking his boots, so he kept his gaze down. Jaskier took in a few deep breaths once the dry heaving stopped, swallowing thickly and trying to clear his thoughts of the present. He wasn’t here, this wasn’t happening. Squeezing his eyes shut, Jaskier put his tongue out and licked down the side of the boot again, whimpering as he gathered up a mouthful of slush and mud. He pulled up and forced the mouthful down before his mind could catch up and managed to keep it down with a minimal amount of dry heaving. 

Eskel groaned above him, the soft sound of him stroking his dick floating down to Jaskier. Jaskier whimpered, hunching his shoulders against the world, and started on the other boot. 

When he was done, when the boots were shiny with Jaskier’s spit and his stomach churned with the constant threat of throwing up all the mud and snow, Eskel reached down and patted Jaskier’s head, his cock straining against the fabric of his pants. 

“Good boy,” he cooed, ruffling Jaskier’s hair. Jaskier hunched his shoulders, keeping his eyes on the ground and trying not to think about anything. Eskel grabbed a fistful of Jaskier’s hair and tipped his head back, forcing him to look Eskel in the eye. Eskel groaned at the sight of him, the small boy knelt naked at his feet, and squeezed the base of his dick through his pants to keep his orgasm at bay. There’d be plenty of time for that later, right now there was an entire day to play with Geralt’s new toy. 

Eskel cast around the room for something to use on the boy, gaze landing on the sweaters sitting on the kitchen counter. Eskel released Jaskier’s hair, rising from his chair and leaving Jaskier kneeling on the floor. The sweaters were small, most likely on the toy when Geralt had found it, and probably handmade, the stitches too large to be made by a machine. Handmade sweaters, most likely the toy’s last connection to it’s family…Eskel split into a wide smile as he got a wonderful idea. 

He threw the sweaters onto the bed, forming them into a balled heap before going over to the toy and wrapping his hands under its arms, lifting it up easily, swinging it over to the bed, and laying it down so it’s little cocklet was on top of the sweaters. The toy looked up at him, on his hands and knees and pointedly lifting his hips up so he didn’t touch the sweaters. Eskel settled on the bed above him, spreading his legs on either side of the toy and positioning his hips so that his straining cock was just below the toy’s face. The toy shrunk in on itself, away from Eskel’s cock, and that just wouldn’t do. Eskel took another fistful of the toy’s hair and pulled its head forward, nestling its face against his cock. Eskel groaned at the contact, the soft, warm breath ghosting over him through the cloth. He took a moment to enjoy it before speaking. 

“You’re not moving until you come all over those sweaters like a good boy,” Eskel said. The toy’s shoulders hunched again as it let out a broken whine, still holding it’s hips above the sweaters. Eskel kept a firm grip in its hair, holding its face against his cock. That was okay, he was content staying here until the toy came around. The longer it waited, the sweeter it would be when it finally gave in. 

Jaskier’s stomach heaved as his face was pressed to Eskel’s cock, the hard length of it up against his cheek. Up here he could smell Eskel’s musk, the precome that was staining Eskel’s pants. The scent did more to him than he wanted to admit or even acknowledge, tingles starting up in his hips as he breathed it in. His brain was getting hazy, his breath against Eskel’s cock making it twitch and press against his cheek. It might feel good if he did what Eskel wanted him to, if he rubbed his dick against — 

No, no he wouldn’t do that. He couldn’t do that, not to his Papa’s sweaters. The sweaters Papa had spent months on, put sweat and tears into, designed special just for him. He couldn’t defile them like that. He wouldn’t, he’d just stay here all day. 

Eskel put a hand on Jaskier’s head, ran his fingers through his hair and simply petted him while Jaskier tried to hold out. He was all tingly, the scent and the warmth and Eskel’s gentle fingers wearing down Jaskier’s resolve, turning him into jelly. He closed his eyes, leaning into Eskel’s warmth and nuzzling his cock. 

“That’s it baby boy,” Eskel cooed as Jaskier sank down, laying between Eskel’s legs and pressing his hips against the sweaters. He was so comfortable, felt so nice against Eskel with his hands in his hair, stroking through it like his Dad liked to do. The tingles spread as he breathed in Eskel’s musk, the friction against his little cock from the sweaters, the gentle hand in his hair urging him to relax even further. It wasn’t long before he was gently rocking his hips, rutting against the fabric, letting out little breathy moans that went straight to Eskel’s cock. He cooed down at the boy, encouraging him to go faster, harder. 

Jaskier felt so good, warm and soupy, and he only felt better the more he moved his hips. Eskel’s cock pressed against his cheek and as he opened his mouth to pant and moan he mouthed along it. He pressed his face against it and inhaled, groaning at the scent of Eskel’s precome, sending more tingles shooting through his hips. 

Jaskier’s moans grew higher and louder as he neared his climax, his thrusts growing sloppy and desperate.

“That’s it sweetheart,” Eskel cooed, petting his hair, “that’s it, make yourself feel good, go ahead and come when you need to, paint those sweaters white for me.” He groaned as Jaskier sped up his thrusts, chasing his release and nuzzling into Eskel’s cock to help himself along. Jaskier lasted another handful of thrusts before he cried out and stilled, shuddering through his orgasm and gripping the sheets for dear life. 

Eskel petted his hair through it, murmuring praise and calling him a good boy, making sure he associated that phrase with pleasure. When Jaskier stopped trembling, Eskel grabbed him under the arms and pulled him into his lap, holding him to his chest. The sweaters were dry, but it wasn’t Jaskier’s fault he wasn’t old enough to come yet. 

Jaskier nuzzled into the warmth of Eskel’s chest, still hazy and boneless from his orgasm. Something nagged at the back of his mind, but he wasn’t too concerned with it. Eskel wrapped his arms around him and sat back against the headboard, Jaskier sinking into the comfort and safety of the strong arms holding him. He sighed, nuzzling into the shirt again and drifting off to sleep, his Papa’s name on his lips as he fell into darkness


	3. Eskel's Visit Pt 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said Friday, but I'm impatient so here you go!

Eskel stroked Jaskier’s hair as the boy fell asleep in his arms, the position surprisingly tender for the situation. His own toy never trusted him this much, was never this comfortable being held. He almost didn’t want to wake the toy up and keep playing with him. Almost. He’d give him five minutes, just long enough for Eskel’s erection to die down enough to keep playing for a while longer. He wasn’t a young man anymore and really only had one go of it nowadays. The sweet little thing was intoxicating though, so innocent and open and docile, and if Eskel wasn’t careful the day would end before he could thoroughly wreck him. 

Eskel watched the toy sleep, his face so pretty when he was relaxed. Well, it was pretty when it was pinched in pleasure and even prettier when he was trying not to throw up, but this was a different kind of pretty that Eskel didn’t get to see all that often. The toy’s mouth hung open slightly, his lips slightly swollen where he’d been biting them. What would those lips look like stretched around a cock? His cock, specifically, all the way down his throat and cutting off his air. How pretty would his face look then, eyes shining with tears, lips stretched around his length, gagging on him?

Eskel sucked in a breath and dug his fingers into his palm, tearing his eyes away from the toy’s sweet face. There’d be time enough for that later; right now he still wanted to play. He cast his eyes around the room, deciding what he wanted to do next. He wanted to hold off actually using the toy until Geralt returned, but there were certainly other things to do. Eskel could get the toy to practice deepthroating on spatulas, have him hump his leg until he came again, make him touch himself while Eskel watched, Eskel could eat him out until he was oversensitive, and that opened its own set of doors. 

The cabin door rattled as it was unlocked, Geralt stepping inside and letting in a wave of cold air before he shut the door behind him. Geralt took off his coat and toed out of his boots before he looked to the bed, smiling softly at the scene before him. 

“Well that isn’t what I expected to come home to,” he murmured as he crossed the small room. Eskel shrugged softly, looking down at the still sleeping toy curled up in his arms. Geralt settled on the bed in front of Eskel, raising his hand to touch the toy and deciding against it. 

“How’s he been?” Geralt asked.

“Like a dream,” Eskel smiled down at the toy, “resisted a couple times but figured it out pretty quickly.”

Geralt hummed and nodded, finally deciding on stroking through Jaskier’s hair, strangely hesitant to wake him up. He just seemed so peaceful, and Geralt still had to make dinner before he could use him again. 

“How long’s he been asleep?” Geralt murmured. 

“Only a couple of minutes, it came really hard and just dropped off.”

“You fucked him?” Geralt asked, looking up to Eskel with dangerous eyes. Eskel just shook his head. 

“Nah, had it fuck its sweater,” Eskel jerked his chin at the bundle of fabric still at the end of the bed. Geralt nodded, the surge of possessive anger leaving him. He looked back down at Jaskier, imagining him humping the sweaters he treasured so dearly and felt his cock fill out at the thought. The two men were quiet for a minute, both watching Jaskier sleep and imagining all the things they could do to him, before Geralt broke the silence. 

“You gonna let him sleep all day?” He asked Eskel. Eskel smiled and snorted. 

“Are you? It’s your toy.”

Geralt nodded in agreement, considering what he wanted to do. He had to make dinner, but that didn’t mean Jaskier couldn’t keep Eskel company while he worked. 

“Go ahead and get undressed,” he said to Eskel, reaching over and taking Jaskier from his arms. Eskel smiled, pulling his shirt over his head and rising from the bed to work on his pants. Jaskier moaned in his sleep as he was jostled, slowly waking up and opening his eyes to look at Geralt. Geralt smiled down at him, brushing a lock of hair behind Jaskier’s ear. 

“Hey there, love,” he whispered as Eskel sat down on the bed again, his erection standing proud against his belly, “you have a nice nap?”

Jaskier struggled to think through the haze of sleep, to find the barb in the question so he could avoid it, but came up empty. He closed his eyes and nodded, turning his face into Geralt’s shirt. He smelled different than Eskel, but it was still a nice scent. Geralt chuckled at him and gently set him down on the bed between him and Eskel. Jaskier sat up, sitting sideways between them and glanced over at Eskel. 

Eskel’s cock wasn’t as long as Geralt’s, but it seemed somehow wider, thicker, and drooling precome. Jaskier gasped at the sight of it, looking fearfully up at Eskel and then at Geralt. He didn’t want that to go inside him; Geralt’s had hurt so much, had stretched him so far he’d ripped. Eskel’s might ruin him forever. Geralt chuckled softly at his reaction, putting a hand on Jaskier’s shoulder. 

“Do you remember last night when I put my mouth on your little prick?” He asked gently. Jaskier calmed a little — that had felt nice, he could stand that if they did it again, — and nodded. “Well, you’re going to do that to Eskel while I make dinner,” Geralt said lightly. Fear flashed through Jaskier’s chest again as he whipped his head around to look at Eskel, gaze flicking to his cock. That wouldn’t fit in his mouth; he was going to choke him like Geralt had last night. Geralt chuckled again and patted Jaskier’s head, rising from the bed and moving to the kitchen to let Jaskier and Eskel play. 

Jaskier watched him leave, almost hoping he’d come back so the next part didn’t have to happen. Eskel was moving on the bed behind him and Jaskier didn’t want to look, knowing that when he turned his head he’d be face to face with Eskel’s cock. Eskel put a hand on Jaskier’s shoulder and Jaskier forced himself to look over, telling himself again and again that all of this would be better if he just did what they wanted. 

Eskel laid back against the headboard, hips shifted forward so he was mostly horizontal, his cock lay against his belly and dripped precome. He reached forward and cupped the back of Jaskier’s head. Jaskier tensed, expecting Eskel to pull his head forward and choke him with his cock, but instead Eskel simply held him, staring down at him softly. 

“You know how to suck a cock?” He asked. Jaskier hunched his shoulders and shook his head. “That’s okay, sweetheart, I’ll tell you what to do. Go ahead and get close to it,” he said, pulling Jaskier gently forward. Jaskier hesitated a moment, hating every second of this more, before shuffling forward so he knelt directly in front of Eskel’s cock. Eskel removed his hand from Jaskier’s head and gripped the base of his cock, tipping it upwards so it stood up in the air. A bead of precome gathered at the tip, threatening to run down the shaft. Eskel saw Jaskier’s gaze lock onto it. 

“Go ahead and taste it, sweetheart,” he cooed, voice breathless. Jaskier hesitated a second before slowly lowering himself down, flicking his tongue out to lick across the slit. Salty musk exploded across his tongue, and Jaskier hated himself a little bit for how the tingles started up in his hips at the taste. Eskel cooed encouragement at him so he did it again, licking across the slit to gather up the salty liquid. 

Eskel worked his hand into Jaskier’s hair and pulled, dragging his head away from his cock. Jaskier whimpered- he thought was doing good!- and looked up at Eskel, expecting anger. Instead, Eskel’s eyes were closed, his face pinched in pleasure. He had a hand white-knuckling the base of his cock. He took a second to collect himself, breathing hard, before he opened his eyes and looked past Jaskier to the kitchen. 

“Geralt, do you have a ring?” He asked, voice strained. Geralt chuckled from the kitchen, walking over to the bed and dragging the chest out again. He pulled something out and threw it at Eskel’s chest. It was two rings connected together, the rim of one attached to the top of the other. Eskel grumbled out a thanks before he slipped a ring over his dick, pulling his balls through the other one and tightening them down. His breathing had picked up while he did this and he closed his eyes, turning his face into the pillow while he collected himself again. Eventually, he opened his eyes, looking to Jaskier again. 

“That’s better, now this won’t end early,” he breathed out, pulling Jaskier’s head forward and guiding it towards his cock again. Jaskier remembered the rope around his prick last night, how it had kept him from getting to the release, and figured that that’s what the ring did for Eskel. Why Eskel didn’t want to come, he had no idea. He flicked his tongue out again and Eskel groaned aloud. Jaskier did it a few more times, the taste of the precome making his own prick fill out, before Eskel pushed on Jaskier’s head. 

“Take it into your mouth, there you go,” he guided Jaskier’s head down, the tip sliding across Jaskier’s tongue and filling his mouth, his lips stretched across the girth of the cock. Eskel looked down at the sight and groaned, nearly coming despite the ring. He cooed encouragement at Jaskier, pushing his head down a little further each time and pulling it up. Eventually he released Jaskier’s hair, tipping his head back and pillowing his hands behind his head.

“You get the idea,” he breathed out. Jaskier nodded and regarded the cock in front of him. He kind of hated how much he liked it in his mouth, the taste of it and the precome drooling off the tip. A bead of it was dripping down the side and Jaskier leaned forward on instinct to lap it up, licking a stripe up the shaft. Eskel grunted, his hips jumping slightly before he got himself under control again. Jaskier did it again, licking up the shaft before suckling on the head, biting off the moan at the spurt of precome that exploded in his mouth. He started idly wondering what his come would taste like, if it’d be any better now than when Geralt had come in his mouth. 

He blinked, shoving those thoughts aside. He didn’t like this, he didn’t want to taste come again, he didn’t want to do a good job so Eskel came. He wasn’t hard and leaking at the thought of this, he wasn’t fighting little moans whenever he took the entire head into his mouth. He didn’t like this. 

He did need to do a good job though, so he worked on taking more of it into his mouth with every pass. He dipped his head lower and the tip nudged the back of his throat and he gagged, his throat rolling and expelling the intrusion. Eskel shouted, hips arching up and forcing his cock deeper into Jaskier’s throat. Memories of the other night, when Geralt had choked him and he thought he was going to die, flashed through his mind, a surge of panic rushing through him. Jaskier yelled, lifting up and off Eskel’s cock and falling back on his hands, chest heaving. Eskel’s chest was heaving too as he stared down at Jaskier, digging his fingers into his palm to keep himself under control. He swallowed a few times before he was able to speak. 

“Don’t worry,” he panted, “we’ll work you up to that.” 

Jaskier’s eyes widened; he didn’t ever want to do that. He could lick until he tongue fell off, but he didn’t want to choke on it ever again. He started to shake his head when Geralt appeared behind him, pinching the back of his neck and freezing him in place. 

“Jaskier, if Eskel wants you to take his cock, you’re going to take it,” he growled. Jaskier whimpered, fear only growing when Eskel didn’t come to his side to say it was an accident, he didn’t actually want to put his cock in Jaskier’s throat. Geralt noticed his silence too, chuckling. 

“You want him to deepthroat you?” He asked Eskel. Eskel swallowed thickly and nodded, a hand snaking down to play with his cock. Geralt hummed in agreement, squeezing Jaskier’s neck once to make sure he was paying attention. 

“Lay down on your back, head over the edge of the bed,” he ordered. Jaskier whimpered and hesitated. Geralt squeezed his neck painfully again. 

“That’s the easiest way to do it. If you don’t want to get in position he can always fuck your throat up here,” he growled. Jaskier snapped to attention, scrambling to lay down on his back and dangle his head over the edge. Eskel groaned at the display and rose from the bed, coming around to stand in front of Jaskier’s head. 

“Don’t you need to work up to deepthroating?” He asked, laying the head of his cock against Jaskier’s lips. Geralt shrugged, moving back to the kitchen to finish dinner. 

“If he rips, he rips. Young boys heal fast,” he said dismissively. A surge of precome coated Jaskier’s lips as Eskel groaned at the words, gripping his cock and pushing into Jaskier’s mouth. 

“Relax your throat, take a breath when you can, if you bite me I take off your balls,” Eskel breathed, pushing into the tight wet heat of the toy’s mouth, relishing the slide against its tongue. Jaskier complied as much as he could, dropping his jaw and letting Eskel fill his mouth, but as soon as it brushed the back of his throat he gagged again. Eskel didn’t pull back this time, groaning in his throat and pushing further into Jaskier’s mouth until he was seated to the hilt. Jaskier cried out around the intrusion, the cock cutting off his air and making his stomach churn like he was gonna throw up. 

The spasming of the toy’s throat was the best fucking thing he’d ever felt around his dick. It was so tight and so wet and so warm and the way it moved — he might come despite the ring. He pulled back, letting the toy take a heaving breath before shoving all the way back in to enjoy the spasming again. He was crazy for denying himself this all for, _what?_ the comfort of a fucktoy? He was getting soft, letting it sleep and letting it come and calling it pet names. This was what toys were for; opening their holes for his pleasure, their own comfort be damned. 

Eskel fucked Jaskier’s face, shoving his cock as far in as it would go and enjoying the spasming of it’s throat until the toy seemed like it would pass out before pulling out and letting it take a shuddering breath before thrusting back in. Jaskier’s world narrowed down to the cock in his throat, the panic of not being able to breathe clutching his heart every time Eskel thrust in and stayed there. Despite the panic, and probably because of the lack of air, Jaskier’s head went hazy, the world fuzzy at the edges and narrowed down to how he was being used. At one point he reached his hands forward to claw at Eskel’s thighs and Eskel had grabbed his wrists, pinning them at his sides and using the new angle to fuck his throat harder. Jaskier’s prick was hard again between his legs and he writhed on the bed, desperate for some friction. He eventually found a position where he could almost rut against his own leg and he did desperately, whining and moaning around Eskel’s cock in his throat. 

Eskel chuckled at the toy’s desperate attempts to get off and was about to call Geralt over to tie the toy’s prick up, but then wondered how it would feel when it came, how it’s throat would spasm and it would scream around his dick. Eskel decided to let it continue, watching the toy rub it’s little prick against its own leg. Geralt sure had picked up a good one, a natural born slut desperate to be fucked and controlled. 

Jaskier rutted against himself until he came, whining and moaning as he reached his peak and sending mind-numbing vibrations up Eskel’s dick. He screamed when he came, throat tightening down around him and nearly pulling a caged orgasm from Eskel. 

Eskel pulled his dick out of Jaskier’s throat, Jaskier took heaving breaths in case Eskel decided to put it back in. Eskel groaned at the sight of him, eyes closed and mouth open, ready for the taking, and gripped the base of his dick around the ring. That was enough for now, from the smell of it dinner was nearly ready anyway. He thought about putting his clothes back on, but they were just going to come off again after dinner. He decided to go to the table and wait for Geralt to finish. 

Jaskier kept his eyes shut, even as Eskel’s footsteps retreated into the cabin. He was still twitching from coming, and trying to convince himself that he didn’t like this. He didn’t like it when they choked him, he didn’t like it when Eskel pinned his hands down and used his throat to get off. He didn’t like it, he didn’t like it. 

Soft voices came from the table, Geralt and Eskel sitting down to eat, and Jaskier just then realized how hungry he was. He hadn’t eaten since the stew Geralt had given him and his stomach grumbled at the scent of whatever Geralt had made tonight. He didn’t want to get up though, didn’t want to ask for some in case they made him pay for it later. He’d just wait until they deigned to feed him. 

He also had to pee, really bad. His bladder throbbed with the need and he let out a whimper, clenching his legs together to keep it in. Jaskier didn’t register that the voices had stopped until they restarted above him. 

“I think the little guy needs to piss,” Eskel chuckled. Geralt hummed, the two men standing on either side of his head. Jaskier didn’t want to open his eyes, see them staring down at him. Geralt hummed again and then there were hands around his arms, lifting him up and setting him down beside the bed. Huh, that was better. Jaskier opened his eyes, saw Geralt pulling a pot out from under the bed. It was empty, Geralt setting it down at Jaskier’s feet and crossing his arms. 

“Go.” He ordered. Jaskier hunched his shoulders, swiveling his head to look at Geralt and Eskel. They showed no signs of leaving, and he really, really, had to go, so he reluctantly aimed his prick and let go. Eskel put a hand on his shoulder as he went and Jaskier closed his eyes against whatever was going on around him. He didn’t want to know why they wanted to watch him pee, didn’t want to know why Eskel’s breathing got heavier behind him. When he was done, he released his prick and held his hands uselessly at his sides, missing the normal ritual of zipping pants up. 

“Do you think we should make it drink it?” Eskel asked, voice husky. Jaskier sucked in a breath, opening his eyes to look pleadingly up at Geralt. No, no please not that. He’d go back to the choking and the ripping, just not that. Geralt brought a hand up to his beard and stroked it thoughtfully, looking down at the pot of piss like he was actually considering it. 

“Do you think he would?” He asked Eskel after a couple moments. Jaskier swiveled his head, looking up at Eskel and silently begging him to say no. Eskel looked down at him, his gaze hungry, and squeezed Jaskier’s shoulder. 

“I think it might,” Eskel said, flicking his eyes up to Geralt. Geralt hummed, looking between the pot and Jaskier. Jaskier started to shake his head, backing away from the pot which just so happened to put Eskel’s dick against his back. Eskel groaned and squeezed his shoulder again, keeping him in place while Geralt decided his fate. Jaskier’s breathing started to come out faster as the panic began to claw at his throat. No, he wouldn’t. There was no ‘might’ about it, he wouldn’t. He’d die of thirst first.

“What has he had to drink today?” Geralt asked after several silent moments. Jaskier could imagine the wicked smile that marked Eskel’s face, and rather than look at it he chose to silently plead with Geralt again. Geralt lit into a wicked smile himself, staring down at Jaskier with a hunger Jaskier would see in his nightmares. 

“Well then, he must be thirsty,” Geralt murmured, staring Jaskier down. Jaskier shook his head again. He wouldn’t do it, they couldn’t make him. They could shove him to his knees and force their cocks inside of him, but they couldn’t make him drink. Geralt chuckled at him, reaching a hand forward to wind his fingers through his hair. 

“You’re not thirsty, baby?” He murmured. Jaskier sucked in a breath, the thought of saying yes and drinking up and being a good boy for his daddy flashing through his head and catching him off guard. He shook his head, shoving that thought aside and locking the door. Geralt smirked down at him a second before flicking his eyes up to Eskel, exchanging a couple expressions. Geralt returned his gaze back down to Jaskier, tightened his hand in his hair. Jaskier tensed his shoulders, waiting for the punishment to come. 

“Okay,” Geralt said simply, releasing his hair and going back to the table. Eskel let go of his shoulder and went as well, both men sitting down and resuming their dinner. Jaskier stared after them in confusion, watching for a few moments as they quietly ate their food without a second thought to him. They just…let him go. He said no and they didn’t make him. They just accepted his decision. He wanted to feel good about that, willed some hope to bloom inside him because of it, but all that came was sinking dread at what would come.


End file.
